No Longer Here
by Dancing Feather
Summary: I saw it coming, others either ignorant or tried to ignore. He wanted to deny it, but one can only ignore the stench of a carcass so long. :1st alternate ending to In the Foreseeable Future:


It's not required to read In the Foreseeable Future before reading this, but things might make a little more sense if you do. In honor of Don Bluth's original script.

Please remember that this is rated T for a reason.

* * *

**No Longer Here  
**

_...maybe if we searched long enough and discovered the right something, I could alter the direction of that new path I'm walking on and walk again with my friends, my family. Without the fear that I may tear someone's skin with my sharp teeth..._

_Rip into firm flesh with disgusted glee..._

_Drink salty blood as if it were the purest water..._

_We have found and made a lot of weird miracles on our travels, saving others from almost last minute disasters, while hardly holding a scratch on our own hides. The bad guys always lost, and the good guys always came home. So I guess, looking at the foreseeable future, even if I do end up in the inevitable, I can be assured that no harm will come to my friends, my only family. With those memories and those loose hopes, I think I can last; just a little while longer._

_..._

_It's cold, it's really cold..._

_There are insects buzzing all over, I never seen so many flying so bravely near me. Yet, I have never felt so content to just watch them. Strange how I would've done anything to snatch them into my mouth and here I am just watching them. Their fluttering wings are so pretty, I... I'd love to have a pair of my own..._

_Strange, I don't feel cold anymore. But I feel ever so tired... Like something warm is wrapping itself all around me. It's the bright circle isn't it? The light is coming. The light is... so tired..._

_...I don't think I can last any longer..._

It was Littlefoot's fault.

It was his words. No one pushes the line like he does. Always trying to find a middle ground. There's no room for a loser and a winner, it has to be equal and all that stuff. That's why it has come to this. That's why I'm looking at the still form of a young teen Sharptooth, lying in his favorite spot on the hill. This is what happens when hope is your only weapon. Hope doesn't do anything. It just adds tasteless spice to an unknown future.

_'At least he isn't a walking skeleton anymore,'_ I tell myself. Little flaps of skin move occasionally due to the course of decomposition and armies of insects grabbing the best pieces before other rival bugs get the chance. I've heard death was peaceful, and it could be on the receiving end of it, but from the outsider's view it looks so antagonizing with the hoard of insects attacking his body in a wild frenzy, getting their revenge. It feels awkward to see such fragile critters who are so low on the food chain to somehow be at the top as well.

What, is that too much insight for a Threehorn?

"What do we do now, Littlefoot?" I said quietly, trying not to startle. He hasn't said a thing in some time. In fact, I don't think he's said a thing since we've discovered Chomper. Getting no response, I nudged his much larger foreleg with my own. "What do we do?" If there is a leader in a group of friends, I guess Littlefoot takes the job. He's normally the first to gather his bearings and lets face it, everyone likes him. It's hard to hate someone who tries hard to look out for everyone. Yep, everyone can always rely on one Longneck. He can be a bit slow at times, but I guess that makes up for my brashness.

But when it comes to situations like this, I have to take the initiative. Littlefoot is too sweet, possibly too innocent for this. His grandparents mean well and they try to warn him of the real world, but they never give him a negative. It works when you have a hatchling, they are too young to try to think positive when given the real outlook on the world.

But even my dad knows when to call it quits and treat me like a grownup.

I start walking past him, which takes more time than it used to, seeing how much faster he needs to grow than I to catch up to our elders. I shake my head to remove some of the buzzers that had decided to make my head fan a resting place. My time of leadership doesn't come often, and it normally doesn't come in good light. A lot of the time, I tend to ruin my chance due to pride. But today there was nothing to be proud about.

Taking a breath, I tried to blow away the insects on top. It was difficult due to every time I took a breath, the cloud of bugs got even thicker. I kept trying, thinking if I did it long enough, the little things would give up and leave and I can see his stupid little blue face once more. Minutes went by with no obvious change and eventually my temper got the best of me, as it always does. Growling, I turned back to Littlefoot.

"What do we do? We told Ducky and the others we wouldn't be long." I'm starting to understand why my dad has so many issues with Longnecks, looking up, I still couldn't read his face. All I could see was the underside of his neck and lower jaw. I couldn't tell if he were in shock, in mourning, mad or lost.

"It's my fault... isn't it?" his low voice rumbled through his neck before it reached it's destination above.

"Yes."

Sometimes even I can tell when I'm too blunt.

I don't really blame Littlefoot for what happened, he was just the cause of the incident. If he wasn't always pushing that there was some solution, talking that there was always a way out, then Chomper wouldn't of been so hopeful... hopeful to the point of starvation.

_'But was it really hope?'_ I wonder. Chomper wasn't very good at keeping a positive perspective. It was healthier for him at the time, living amongst us. He always had to be weary and be at best behavior around our parents. Any sign of acting like the creature he was would've had him banished or killed.

"It's better this way." I found myself saying. Above, I started to hear the choking of a sobbing Longneck. "It really is-" I found myself getting louder, "it could've been worse. Of all routes he could've taken, this is the best!" the next thing I said came more bitterly then I expected, "You raised him well."

It might take many times for the bright circle to pass over the Great Valley before Littlefoot realizes this, and he will blame himself fully the entire way, but the truth still stands. Nothing good would've came from Chomper living. If he chose to live, I... I wouldn't know what to do. I couldn't bare with the fact that someone would have to stop him. I wouldn't want it to be me, but I wouldn't of wanted Chomper's last vision to be of some angry raging stranger. I'd make sure it was quick and painless. One quick ram can knock out a small Feathered Sharpclaw. It's far less painful than starving yourself to death.

"Common Littlefoot," I started scratching at the ground. Grass easily gave away to dirt and rocks as I also began to use my face to lengthen and deepen the new hole. I'm supposed to be the strong one of the group, the last to cry...

My tears seemed to be the final thing that actually moved him. I felt his shadow grow over me, and I backed away. His name now an oxymoron, his foot came down and easily tore away the my small scratchings into a large gash into the ground. But it wasn't enough, the hole would have to be deeper to make sure no one would think of digging him up. Deep enough so no one could smell anything different. Deep enough so no one can feel a missing presences. This is the Great Valley, the only thing we die of here is old age.

When the hole was deep enough, we pushed Chomper in. I shuddered at first, as the body threatened to pull itself apart several times, but I kept going, knowing that soon enough I wouldn't have to see this anymore. The sound of the body hitting the bottom sounded more like the snapping of twigs against gravel. I didn't bother to look to see what the sound caused. With this body buried, it will stay only as a memory and not a reminder.

All of the flying bugs have finally scattered. I hope the others suffocate. As the both of us started packing the dirt, I noted something else odd. Somehow all of the dirt we took to make the hole wasn't enough to fill it. Cursing to myself, I began knocking down some rocks to finish the job.

"What do we tell the others?" he whispered as he nudged the pebbles and rocks into the hole.

I kept my eyes low and kept silent until I pushed the last rock towards him, "We'll say we couldn't find him."

* * *

You people are my beta. If you see any spelling, grammatical errors or any words that need to be changed due to the slight different terms they use to describe their world do not hesitate to correct me. Thank you for reading!


End file.
